


i can feel my soul burning slow

by haecates



Category: Batman (Comics), Green Lantern (Comics), Justice League - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Blowjobs, I just wanted to write Bruce being Kyle's sugar daddy, M/M, Smoking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-12
Updated: 2016-04-12
Packaged: 2018-06-01 22:28:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,646
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6539002
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/haecates/pseuds/haecates
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“I’m Kyle.”</p><p>“Bruce.” </p><p>“I kno– I mean, not that I– You’re just–” He babbles, one sentence being eaten by the other as he bites his lip trying to find the right words to express that he knows one of the most recognizable faces in Gotham. </p><p>Bruce tries not to laugh. “I know.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	i can feel my soul burning slow

**Author's Note:**

> Maf, here it is, as promised.

All around him are lights and laughter and people talking and talking and talking.

He isn’t much of a talker, he had never been. When he and Ollie were at Gotham Academy, Bruce was the  _ mysterious one _ and Ollie was the talkative one, full of stories and funny jokes – or so he thought. It hadn’t changed much. Ollie is at the end of the table, drink in hand while he talks about the first time he saw Dinah. His face is glowing and despite the absurd amount of bad jokes he manages to make in less than thirty minutes, Bruce knows he is happy. His happiness is, really, the only reason why he is at a bar on a Friday night.

Hal raises his glass one more time, drunk out of his mind, and makes another speech about what a great couple Dinah and Ollie are. Hal is the best man, of course he is, and Bruce didn’t even feel jealous about the choice, despite knowing Queen the longest. He and Hal just fit.

Diana gives him a meaningful look and he knows he should look like he’s enjoying the night. It’s not that he hates it, it’s just that he had a bad day at the office and, on those days, it's harder to put a on mask and let himself be the playboy everyone expects him to be. “I’m going to get some air,” he mutters to Clark, who has Lois in his arms and only smiles at him as if he trusts him not to leave the party earlier.

Bruce leaves his phone on the table as if it is a promise.

He walks out of the bar, just far enough so he won’t hear the music or the people. He is across the street and he can see the neon sign of the old bar not working properly on the last letter, so it looks like the name is  _ O _ instead of  _ OA _ . Bruce never asked Hal what was the meaning of the name, but somehow he knows it would lead to some epic history with no real meaning under it, so it’s better to leave it.

He takes a pack of cigarettes out of his pocket, lights one up and takes a drag before a slim boy gets near him. “Do you have a light?” He says and Bruce doesn’t even look up before lending it to him. It’s an unspoken rule between those who smoke: you’ll always lend your lighter.

The guy leans on the wall, right by Bruce’s side, and sighs, as if he was holding his breath for a long time. “It’s way quieter here,” he says and Bruce nods.

“I really like the bar, you know? The people and all the noise, but sometimes I need to get away to breathe.”

Bruce looks to him and a smile suddenly appears on his face. The guy is gorgeous, his face built like poetry, the type Bruce would obsess over in high school, trying to find a hidden meaning. The guy looks back at him and smiles – his smile is so easy it’s like a work of art. “I’m Kyle.”

“Bruce.” 

“I kno– I mean, not that I– You’re just–” He babbles, one sentence being eaten by the other as he bites his lip trying to find the right words to express that he knows one of the most recognizable faces in Gotham. 

Bruce tries not to laugh. “I know.”

“I’m not stalking you or anything, I just needed a cigarette.” He finishes, his voice a little ashamed and Bruce smiles at  _ that_.

“Me too,” he says, takes another drag and closes his eyes. He should have told Ollie he was not in the mood, but he would never forgive him for not attending to his engagement party. And Bruce knew he could hold a grudge like no one else.

When he opens his eyes again Kyle is still there, looking at him. He arches an eyebrow and the guy smiles – that goddamn easy smile again. “Sorry, it’s just…” 

His finger touches Bruce’s chin and he isn’t sure if he should flinch or not, so he just looks at him, eyebrow still arched. “Your face is so angular, you can’t really see that in the pictures.” He drags the tip of his finger along Bruce’s jaw line and, just like that, he is not looking at Bruce anymore, he is looking specifically at his jaw. He is looking at all the lines that form his face. “I had never noticed that before, it must be…  _ Interesting _ to paint it.”

“Are you an artist?” Bruce gives into his subject, only because this – whatever this conversation means – is way more interesting than what’s happening inside the bar.

“Yeah” Kyle says, takes his fingers out of Bruce’s face and smokes his cigarette. “‘M not that good, it’s just a hobby.”

Bruce nods, smokes the last bit of his cigarette. “You should send me some of your work, I happen to have a gallery.”

Kyle’s eyes widen, “You’re shitting me.”

Bruce actually smiles at that, looks down at the guy. “I mean, if you’re good enough, I’m sure I could help.”

“I’m not,” he says right away.

“Let me be the judge of that, will you?”

Kyle looks up at him, a smirk on his lips. Bruce can’t really read him – it’s extremely frustrating, but there’s  _ something _ about it, maybe frustrating is not the word he is looking for. “I can’t believe Bruce Wayne is flirting with me.”

Bruce smiles a little. “Are you bad at other things or only painting?”

“I’ve been told I’m a pretty decent kisser.”

“Pretty decent, huh?” Bruce smiles and leans in to kiss him. Their lips brush just enough so Bruce can feel exactly how soft Kyle’s lips are before sucking them. Kyle’s hands are in his hair not long after that and when he actually kisses him, he wonders who said this kiss was  _ only _ decent. He presses his hands on his bony hips and their bodies fit together, Kyle whispers something against his lips he doesn’t really understand, so he pulls away, foreheads touching. “You said?”

Kyle sucks on his lips a little. “Don’t stop.”

And then Bruce kisses him again, pressing his body against the brick wall behind them. Kyle’s hands press against his chest, push his shirt up so their bodies crash together again.

He kisses him until his lips are red and his taste is memorized on his tongue; until not even the sounds of the cars bother him. He kisses him until both of them are out of breath and he knows that, if he doesn’t stop, he will regret losing control  _ here_.

He knows he will regret this anyway.

“Fuck.” Kyle says, under his breath. His face is a hot mess and Bruce wants to worship it even more now. “Why did you stop?”

Bruce smirks, licks his lips. “Don’t want to do something you’ll regret later.”

Kyle leans forward, licks the salt of Bruce’s skin and presses his fingers against his crotch. “Let me do it then.”

When Kyle kneels in front of him, Bruce knows he should stop. He is sure of it when the younger guy opens the fly of his pants and looks at him like he’s something  _ beautiful _ . He should probably stop – he knows he will be the one thinking about this for days after, but then Kyle’s is mouthing against his cock over his underwear and Bruce closes his eyes because his lips are soft and warm and all he needs.

He is good, his lips trace the shape of him until Bruce sighs heavily.

Bruce isn’t loud – never has been, but once Kyle’s lips touch the skin of his cock, he has to bite his lips not to moan.

And then Kyle tries to take him all in, gags on how big he is and Bruce sighs  _ Fuck, kid_, which is apparently enough for him to start bobbing his head, slobbering all over it while he tries and jerk him off, not really keeping any pace.

Everything about the way he touches him is desperate and messy and Bruce shouldn’t get off on being wanted like  _ that_, but he does.

He looks down at the boy, his mouth ever more red and perfect than before, and tugs on his hair. His eyes flicker and Bruce understands it as an  _ yes _ , so he moves his hips, crashing the head of his cock against Kyle’s throat as he moans around it, gags on it so pretty that it’s impossible to hold himself for much longer.

“I’m going to–”

And Kyle holds his hips, push him further into his throat and chokes on Bruce’s cum when it spills inside his mouth.

When Bruce looks down again, he is cleaning the corner of his mouth and there’s a smile on his lips he is sure will haunt all his dirty dreams for weeks to come.

He pushes him up and, when he’s about to grab his crotch, Kyle just smiles and licks his lips. “I have to go back,  _ daddy_, my break is over.”

Bruce sighs, tortured by the possibilities. By how much he wants that – has to hold himself not to say  _ Leave it, I’ll talk to your boss _ or _ I’ll pay for your day today _ because he knows it is offensive and he shouldn’t. He also knows he’d pay for anything the kid wanted just to not interrupt this.

He takes a card out of his pocket, puts it in Kyle’s pocket. “About your paintings, call me whenever.”

“About the paintings?” He asks, looks at him as Bruce pulls away, fixing the mess Kyle made of his clothes.

“And all the things you’re decent in.”

“I’m bad at paintings, remember?”

Bruce smirks and turns to walk away from him. “Then don’t call me about that.”


End file.
